


207 - Accidentally Swapped Suitcases

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Mini Fic, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “hi I know this is really weird that I’m knocking on your hotel room door at 3 AM but we accidentally swapped suitcases in baggage claim and I found your touring itinerary in your bag so I kinda followed you across town and please don’t hate me for wearing your clothes but I literally have nothing to wear so can I just have my suitcase back now? but wait youre kinda hot… so do you maybe want to go out for drinks later?”





	207 - Accidentally Swapped Suitcases

You'd gone straight from the airport to the hotel and straight from there to the meeting. There was hardly time to stop and pee, let alone unpack. So, when you unzipped the bag just after midnight to find a whole lot of clothes that were not yours, you were more than a little devastated. You had already stripped down to underwear, the business attire too constricting. For a moment you considered if it was unethical to go through a stranger's bag, but what other option did you have?

It was mostly button ups and a few band t-shirts. The guy had taste. Not to stereotype based on gender norms, but you concluded the bag did belong to a guy. There were a few pairs of track pants, and a hoodie that he'd clearly owned for a while. There were holes in the elbows and around the cuffs. A small toiletries bag told you he was a low maintenance type of person. You sighed. Did he have your bag? Was he somewhere in the city trying to work out how he'd look in flannelette pyjamas printed with daisies and cats?

You resigned to the fact there wasn't much you could do about it at almost one in the morning. Chewing your lip while you deliberated, you tried to work out if it was weird to wear his clothes. Probably, but you refused to put the only garments you had back on. Sleeping naked wasn't an option; you'd always had a weird thing about hotel beds. You pulled on the slightly smaller pair of track pants, and folded up the legs, giggling to yourself in the process. A t-shirt and the hoodie went on. You pulled the material up to smell it. Whoever he was, he smelled nice. Fabric softener. Musk.

In bed, feeling a little sorry for yourself, you put your hands in the front pocket of the hoodie. There something in there. Paper. Quickly, you sat up and turned the bedside lamp on. Fucking jackpot! A travel itinerary. He was in a band, or working for a band, or stalking one, or something. A few hours ago he would have been at a venue across town that you'd never heard of. Maybe he'd be there still.

You zipped up his bag, and headed out into the city, still dressed in his comfy clothes.

The taxi waited in the alley as you knocked on the back entrance to the venue. Someone answered, and you explained that you thought you had one of their bags. The guy laughed.

"Yeah, that's Van's," he said pointing to the hoodie.

"Is he here?"

"No. He's gone to the hotel. Probably opening your bag as we speak."

He gave you directions and said he'd ring Van and give him the heads up.

…

On the fourteenth floor, you waited only a few seconds for the hotel door to open. A guy, presumably Van but maybe not, stood in front of you and laughed.

"Go ahead, love, make yourself at home in my clothes,"

"I'm so sorry. I only had my work clothes and I didn't know what to do and they're so uncomfortable. But I wouldn't have found you if I hadn't put this on," you replied quickly, pulling at the hoodie. Van put a hand up to stop you.

"All good. Come in. I hadn't even opened yours."

You followed him into the room. There were two beds, but he was alone. Your bag sat on the floor and you replaced it with his.

"Um, I'll just… change out of your…" you said awkwardly. Van smiled and nodded, sitting on the bed. You pulled jeans and your own hoodie from the bag, skipping a t-shirt in the interest of saving time. Ducking into the ensuite, you changed quickly and returned to the room.

"Yeah. They suit you more," Van laughed.

"Yeah. Again, sorry… Super weird thing to do,"

"Nah. You're all good, love," he said, taking his clothes from you. He did what you had, and smelt them. "Smell prettier now. Like girl." You laughed. "Anyway. I'm Van,"

"Y/N,"

"What brings you to the city, Y/N?" he asked, sitting back down. You were standing in the middle of the room glancing from door to him.

"Ah, work,"

"Work," he repeated, falling back on the bed. "What do ya do?" His shirt had ridden up and you could see the snail trail leading from belly button to below. To recap. A boy that had good taste in music, worked in the industry, smelt good, was funny and kind, and incredibly good looking, was asking you about your life.

"Um…" you started to answer, moving to sit next to him on the bed. He looked over at you. "Nothing interesting. Finance,"

"Sounds boring."

You laughed at his honesty. "It is,"

"Do you have to do maths all day?"

"Yeah,"

"You must be dead smart. Do you want a drink, then?" And suddenly he was off the bed and on his knees in front of the mini bar. You watched him for a second.

"It's… almost three in the morning," you replied slowly. Van looked over his shoulder at you.

"You gotta be on Wall Street in the morning?"

"Uh, no… I don't have to work tomorrow… I fly home tomorrow afternoon."

The look on Van's face told you that you'd made a mistake. An eyebrow went up and his lips formed a sly smile. His head became buried in the fridge again, and you kicked off your shoes and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

You shotted the tequila with him first, then watched as Van connected his phone to the hotel's stereo. Kings of Leon played quietly as you sat on the bed's pillows looking out the window. The mini bottle of tequila was warming you, and a little after it being followed by vodka, your whole body was going numb.

You were giggling, or maybe Van was, but you were both very drunk on your backs on the bed.

"How'z the roof get painted?" he asked.

"The ceiling? Got them rollers on sticks," you whispered in reply. He laughed.

"Rollers on sticks," he parroted.

Suddenly the door opened and a guy walked in.

"La-reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Van called, opening his arms for a hug, but not moving from where he was on the bed. Larry looked from you to him. He swayed on the spot, and you realised he was also drunk.

"I'mma sleep with Blake n' John then," he slurred and left the room quickly. An assumption had been made and it put a thought in your head that had not previously been there. If Van had shared the thought, it wasn’t a visible process. He chuckled to himself as Larry left.

You watched him crawl up the bed and lean against the window, which was behind the bed acting almost as a bedhead.

"Kinda looks like stars,"

"The city?"

He hummed an affirmative reply.

"Pretty," he said softly, and you had almost not heard it at all. "Love?" he asked, looking back at you. Your eyes were closed and you were almost asleep. With your last little burst of consciousness, you felt Van curl himself around you and pull a blanket up. "Night, Y/N," he said, kissing your forehead. You made the smallest of sounds. "Glad our bags got mixed up. See you in the morning." Then, you were dead to the world.


End file.
